


L'Affaire de Coeur

by tzigane, Zaganthi (Caffiends)



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, If You Squint - Freeform, M/M, barely slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-31
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-17 10:25:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5865826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tzigane/pseuds/tzigane, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caffiends/pseuds/Zaganthi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And then it happened -- the vacant shop at the end of the small strip where L'Affaire de Coeur resided gained a little place called <i>Fix</i>.</p><p>For the most part, it seemed to be reasonably busy -- people in and out, the proprietor and workers quiet, staying to themselves. The longer it went on, the more his curiosity rose. He had to try it, had to give in and see if it was as mostly unbearable as every other shop that was in his way.  So he took his lunch break, and wandered down there.</p><p>His first impression was that it was dark. Not unexpected in a pub, he supposed, but a bit odd for a coffee shop.</p><p>His second impression was that it smelled delicious -- like coffee, yes, but also a hint of tea, and something that seemed milky and spicy simultaneously.</p><p>Honestly, it was a little bit like heaven.</p>
            </blockquote>





	L'Affaire de Coeur

**Author's Note:**

  * For [prettysophist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettysophist/gifts).



L'Affaire de Coeur, in the beginning, had been one thing and one thing only: a means of distraction.

There was something about it that had been... therapeutic. It had been a way to concentrate on something other than the obvious, and he'd been kind of terrible about it beyond the making of scones. He was still terrible at most of it, and his staff were happiest when he only dabbled off to the side, playing with a little chocolate and fresh cut butter.

Mostly, he dealt in flavors these days -- raspberry-lavender-rose jam with clotted cream tortes, chocolate-almond croissants, even tiny lemon thumbprint cookies. It made him happy, and made his staff happier since they didn't have to worry about what he was getting up to in the kitchen and what sort of disaster might occur. And the business side of it, he was quite good at. He was an organized man, had been an organized man for a long time, and buying supplies, budgeting, hiring hours, it was all very easy.

Mostly easy.

He still had his issues, of course. Who wouldn't? The scars were visible, after all, and the limp was far from psychosomatic. Some days, it was worse than others, particularly on the damp days, and those had become days he needed to stop for coffee on his way to work, limping into unfortunate chain stores and coming out with bitter draughts that left him sighing, but at least caffeinated.

He was eternally looking for a decent coffee shop that he could find on his route into work, or any where that was on his usual paths. Every time a new shop opened, he gave it a shot. And mostly he was disappointed, so he ended up back at the chain shops that at least were reliably bitter.

That was something, after all.

And then it happened -- the vacant shop at the end of the small strip where L'Affaire de Coeur resided gained a little place called _Fix_.

For the most part, it seemed to be reasonably busy -- people in and out, the proprietor and workers quiet, staying to themselves. The longer it went on, the more his curiosity rose. He had to try it, had to give in and see if it was as mostly unbearable as every other shop that was in his way.  So he took his lunch break, and wandered down there.

His first impression was that it was dark. Not unexpected in a pub, he supposed, but a bit odd for a coffee shop.

His second impression was that it smelled delicious -- like coffee, yes, but also a hint of tea, and something that seemed milky and spicy simultaneously.

Honestly, it was a little bit like heaven.

It could've used a little more strip lighting, something warmer, but Treize was content to take the place in. It smelled alluring, and that was a very good place for a coffee shop; not entirely faddish and hip, then.

"Welcome to Fix."

Huh. He'd been so distracted by the new surroundings that he hadn't noticed the barista, a young man with dark slanted eyes and a serious mien that made him seem immensely older than he actually was.

"Hi. I'd like something interesting." He'd tried it before at restaurants, in coffee shops, asking for their best something, their most interesting something.

One sharp thin brow arched and his head tilted. "Seems like a dangerous sort of request. I could give you almost anything." Almost, yes, but he seemed to be considering it. "Tea or coffee?"

"Tea." Seemed the thing to do, and there was caffeine in tea as well. He leaned on his cane, watching the man's face. "I'm up for dangerous."

A hint of a smile snuck over the curve of that mouth. "Well, then. Have a seat. What's the saying? Hang onto your... hat?"

He grinned, limping over to the nearest two seater table. "Much more interesting than the last coffee shop I tried."

"Well. I needed something to do. It might as well be interesting, no?" The smell of things wafted his way, something delicate and sweet. A hint of flower, yes, a hint of fruit. The taste might be overwhelming, but for the moment, it had caught his attention.

"Oh. It smells good," Treize sighed, leaning back in the chair and letting his shoulders relax. Tea had a certain place in sense memory for him, a place of detente, a place of relaxation.

His barista hummed in answer, steadily working. "I am... more familiar with the making of tea, yes? But Americans prefer coffee, and so. Tea houses are less successful. Coffee, on the other hand? I can always learn something new. It's something to keep my hands busy."

"How long's your shop been open?" He felt comfortable in the dimly lit place, and watching the man work behind the counter was relaxing.

"Not long. A few weeks or so, and the sign only went up today. Not much business as yet. I was thinking of making pastries." That statement was accompanied by a side glance that said he was quite aware of Treize's occupation, and then he stepped from behind the counter and brought a tray with him. "And since we are the only ones here, perhaps I will have tea with you, if that is acceptable?"

"I'd be honored if you did." Smart man, scouting out the semi-competition. They were both purveyors of treats, after all, and people tended to get one sort or another. There was surely room for them both. It wasn't as though Treize planned to add coffee to his menu beyond the plain black variety.

"I'm Chang Wufei. Ah. Wufei Chang? Here. Yes. Sorry." He raised one shoulder in a shrug and began to lay out the tea things from the tray -- surprisingly delicate cups in saucers, a small teapot, a few other things.

It made it an experience more than a quick drink in a paper cup and a cardboard sleeve. "I'm Treize Khushrenada. Pleasure to meet you, Chang Wufei."

The tea was poured, slowly and carefully. "And you as well. I've seen you, coming and going. From the pastry shop."

The first cup was gently pushed in his direction. "It smells delightful."

That smile was easy, small, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "An old family recipe. Tradition, even. Long gone, now, everyone who knows the secret. Only a few of us remaining."

"And what brought you to Vancouver?" It was seemingly a safe topic, though Treize knew that it could be a touchy subject if someone hadn't travelled for pleasure.

That seemed to do away with anything except solemnity. "As I said. There are only a few of us remaining. Unfortunately, alternate political opinions are... not very encouraged in the depths of China."

"Or any of the former Soviet states." He cradled fingers around the tea cup, still taking care to sniff. "The culture here is strange, but welcoming. I grow fonder of it every year."

"The lack of wholesale slaughter was, I confess, a selling point. The process for immigrating was difficult." To say the least. "I hope to grow fond of it myself."

Treize lifted the cup almost in a toast. "I hope you do."

For a while, they sat together and drank. It was quiet, the music in the background nothing bothersome, enjoyable, even. By the time he reached the bottom of the cup, Chang Wufei rose and quietly walked towards the bar, slipping behind it. "Would you like more?"

It was peaceful. "Please." The shop wouldn't burn down without him, and Fix was quiet. "The local alternative papers do free or cheap advertising. I'll head down to my shop and bring you some of the materials so you can get that started."

The company was also entirely enjoyable, something he found unexpected. "I would be grateful for the assistance. I hadn't thought of that."

"It's a very low key word of mouth community around here. They like different things and flexibility. I have staples on the menu, and things I'm always trying. Keeps people coming in to try something new and buy something they know they like already." Treize's mouth quirked a little. "Like Starbucks. Which makes my skin crawl but they have the pattern down."

"Success often does." He was busy, working at something, and Treize watched him, waited until he returned. "And I hope very much to succeed."

"If this tea is anything to go by, I think you will. Hopefully one day I won't know you as the Starbucks of tea. Or maybe that would be good for you." He waved a hand slightly. "Success comes in many shades."

"And many flavors." There was a new cup set before him. "You are the first person I have met who seemed to appreciate tea here. Well. Perhaps that isn't so, but." Ah. That was an interesting look, dark eyes hidden momentarily behind sparse lashes.

Very interesting. "People order coffee with ten different flavors in it. Tea can already provide that layered taste..." And layering, complexity of taste had served him well. The lemon-lavender scones were quite unforgettable, once he'd honed the recipe.

Perhaps this layering, complexity, might be unforgettable, as well. "Sometimes that makes things altogether more interesting."

"Much better this way." And he was talking to a man who was in exile or refugee status for political reasons. Both of them undoubtedly knew that interesting wasn't always the best thing in the world.

It could also be amazing. "I'm sure."

"I came to Canada because it was... Safe. Opportunities. And I get to bake now. There's a peace there." Something that Chang Wufei would undoubtedly want -- need -- to know.

With some precision, Wufei seated himself, lifting his own refreshed cup. "Compared to home, I feel that even active war zones are at some times more peaceful. Here... Here is bliss."

"I never went to China. They don't welcome Spetsnaz there."  He took another sip of the tea.

One slim shoulder rose in a shrug. "They do not welcome their citizens there, either, particularly not clans who cling to their old beliefs. At least we are equally unwelcome there."

"There are places that are more welcoming for you to see." He was curious if the man had family left, or if he was standing stalwart and alone as he built a niche for himself. Like Treize had. Like he still did, and sometimes that was a little lonely, but he had a place, and it was all his. There was no question. He could lead a quiet life, a happy life, and that meant all the world to him.

"I think perhaps I have come to a point where I wish to stop. If I wish to stop this, why, then I will. But for now..." That little secretive smile was charming. "I find the current situation... promising."

It was hard not to smile reflexively, because he was half sure the man was flirting with him. But maybe not. "I think it could be." He took another sip of tea.

"Then tomorrow, I will visit your establishment. Perhaps see what you make there, if that would be acceptable."

"That would be very acceptable. Now I'm nervous that my baked goods aren't as good as your tea," he chuckled.

Just a bit nervous. Only a tad. Maybe a bit more than a tad. "I feel sure your goods are admirable." Yes. Right. That was absolutely flirting.

He relaxed a little, confirming it as he caught Wufei's eyes. "When you're not working, what do you enjoy doing?"

Sipping from his cup, he tilted his head to the side thoughtfully. "Reading. Studying. Spending far too much time trying to keep myself occupied."

"Plotting to take the world over with tea and coffee?" The door jangled, a gentle noise, and that was the entry of a cluster of student-age kids. Good, business.

Standing, Wufei tilted his head. "Shouldn't world domination be on everyone's list?" Easy as that, and he stepped away, slipping back behind the counter. It was lovely, watching him, the economy of motion, the easy way that he filled the orders. There was chattering, none of them noticing anything much beyond the smell of coffee, the desire to settle in at a corner. 

It seemed like his new friend had a few good things to offer in the often dull world of lattes, where everyone cookie-cutter copied Starbucks. He just needed to get the word out. The lull seemed over now, so Treize finished his tea, and policed up their little table. After all. He did have a business to which he needed to tend, and there was always tomorrow.

Limping forwards, he gently placed the cups and the small pot on the counter, and was unsurprised when it garnered attention. "Done so soon, then?"

"I'll be back. Repeatedly, I think." He smiled when he said it, and added, "And I look forward to seeing you at my shop tomorrow."

A gentle incline of Wufei's head answered. "Early. Lemon-lavender scones are, I'm told, a favorite."

He gave a half a wave, smiling as he turned to leave. "I'll have to make sure they're not burnt."

"Tomorrow, then." A promise that, he could tell.

That was something for him to look forward to, and scones he needed to prepare.


End file.
